


Hang Me Up or Even Hang Around

by PlayingChello



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e24-25 Grave Danger, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: They can see Nick.They can see Nick!But the sudden rush of joy that brings is tragically short-lived. They can see him, but he’s in a box, in the ground, trapped.Greg wants to puke.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Lulu_Minati (ao3 and twitter) for beta-ing this for me and helping me make sense of my own brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started rewatching all of CSI and told myself I wasn't going to write any fic. And then I found I didn't have any fic that I read that satisfied my desire for more of a look at how Nick was after this episode so. This was supposed to be a short little examination of Nick's mind state post Grave Danger from Greg's pov with some realisation of feelings. And then it turned into a monster that will span multiple chapters. I'm not sure how many chapters quite yet, but probably 3 or 4.

It’s been hard, since half the team moved to swing shift and Greg, along with Sara and Grissom, stayed on nights. But Greg is dealing with it; he, Nick, and Warrick hang out in the break room when their shifts inevitably overlap from overtime. Sometimes their cases even overlap and he gets more of an excuse to see his friends. But more often than not, they’re all just ships passing in the night. And Greg won’t admit it, because he just got his certification as a CSI and he doesn’t want to jeopardise that, but it _sucks_. He misses Catherine’s motherly mentorship, Warrick’s quiet intensity, and Nick’s gentle friendly smiles. He misses his friends, misses working alongside them night after night.

When the lab is suddenly buzzing with nervous activity after hearing that Nick disappeared from a crime scene, Greg’s heart feels like it’s in his throat.

Grissom and Catherine are gone before he gets any word of what’s going on. Brass is already on the scene, and Warrick jumps in his car the second he hears. Sara is sitting in the break room with her head in her hands, and everyone else is moving or grieving. It almost feels like half the crime lab is ready for them to find a body.

Greg can’t handle it.

He has to do something. He has to find some way to be useful, some _thing_ he can do to help. Nick is his _friend_. A constant source of support and good natured smiles. Greg can’t even begin to fathom who would want to destroy that, who would take him. He’s about to go mad with inactivity, without any evidence to process to help, when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t answer it, but when he sees Grissom’s name, he decides he’s better off taking it.

“Did you find him?”

Grissom’s voice is oddly sympathetic, “Not yet, Greg. I need you to do something for me.”

Greg stops himself from sighing in disappointment, “Anything.”

“I need you to pull all of Nick’s recent cases. Find anyone he convicted or was even getting close to. Go back a couple years.”

Greg starts nodding before he remembers Grissom can’t see him over the phone, “On it.”

“And, Greg?” Grissom says just as he’s about to pull the phone from his ear, “We’ll get him back.”

He makes a noise somewhere between affirmation and absentmindedness before flipping the phone shut and heading to the records room to start pulling cases. It’s not much, but at least now he has something to do, something to keep himself busy, some way to _help_.

\--

When they all meet up later on, Greg can feel the churning anxiety in his stomach as they share what little information they have so far. It’s not just that they have next to nothing to find Nick that fills him with anxiety, or that everyone only has vague, seemingly random pieces of information that don’t _mean_ anything. It’s the terrifying thought slowly settling deep inside Greg that they might not actually find Nick before it’s too late. And Greg doesn’t think he can handle that.

He inhales sharply when a commotion outside the conference room captures everyone’s attention, compelling the whole group to see what’s going on. Outside, they find Hodges making a delivery guy very upset. It’s one of the only times Greg has ever been thankful for Hodges when he realises he’s attempting to preserve evidence. Evidence of Nick.

Everyone hovers, nervously watching, while Grissom takes the package to the lab. And the whole time, Greg can only stand there, hoping it isn’t some severed body part. His stomach is in knots and he almost can’t breathe. Greg is stock still, devoid of his normal nervous energy. He doesn’t rock or shift his weight like the girls seems to be doing. He doesn’t wring his hands or pick at a thread in his pocket. He just stands there, frozen, while he watches Grissom use a UV light on whatever is in the package.

Finally, Grissom comes back out of the lab, brandishing a tape and a USB stick. After determining there’s no usable trace evidence, there’s only one thing they can do: figure out what’s on them. Greg finds himself almost having to manually lift his legs to take the steps to join everyone crowding around the tape player as Grissom inserts the tape.

When Outside Chance starts playing, they all just stare. No one moves, no one says anything. Greg listens, hoping that maybe there will be some audio evidence hidden in the song, or that maybe something was recorded after it. Anything so he doesn’t have to think about the lyrics, about how the song is about not getting to the singer. And how that might mean they won’t get to Nick.

Before it’s over, Grissom decides that the song isn’t worth listening to in its entirety and walks over to the computer to see what’s on the USB stick. The rest follow to see, hoping for something more useful than a song. Greg knows he will never be able to listen to that song again.

Of course it’s a ransom letter. A few lines of text, one million dollars, drop-off location to follow, pretty standard stuff. But nothing that actually _helps_ them. A few seconds later, a link appears. Grissom clicks it… and there he is. They can see Nick. _They can see Nick!_ But the sudden rush of joy that brings is tragically short-lived. They can see him, but he’s in a box, in the ground, trapped.

Greg wants to puke.

He barely holds back the nausea that rises while everyone just stands there and stares at the feed. At least until Grissom suddenly moves and sits down at a nearby table, calculating that unless there’s some kind of air access in the box they’re watching, Nick would only have an hour and a half of air. They rationalise that the timer indicated there must be an access, otherwise what would be the point of the ransom, especially with a video feed. But it doesn’t really do much for Greg’s peace of mind. He can’t take his eyes off the screen, off the video of his friend panicking at being trapped in a coffin with nothing but what looks like a tape player and his gun. He wishes he could hear, even if it would break his heart even more to hear Nick’s screaming, at least they could hear him.

Then the feed cuts out and Warrick rushes to click the link again.

\--

They take turns watching the feed, keeping it up every time it shuts off. And when they aren’t there, they go through the evidence, they follow up on the delivery boy, they do whatever they can to try to figure out where Nick is. Greg is in the layout room when Ecklie tells everyone the city won’t pay the ransom. He hadn’t expected them to, but it still hurts to hear. Just one more thing to make it even less likely that they’ll be able to find him. Alive, anyway.

Greg is staring at the evidence they have so far. Which is… not much. But he isn’t really seeing it anyway. Instead, the video of Nick is playing in his mind’s eye, over and over. He can’t stop seeing the terrified look as he struggles and pushes at the walls of his prison.

His grave.

That’s what it is. It’s a grave. A coffin. Nick is meant to die there. And Greg knows it. He knows the ransom probably won’t do anything to get Nick back. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try, but it won’t help, in all likelihood. Ransoms hardly ever do.

He almost misses the couple that walks passed the glass doors of the room. They’re being escorted by Grissom and Greg immediately knows who they are. Nick’s parents. Well dressed, beautiful people. Because of course they are, if they made Nick. He remembers Nick mentioning that his father is a judge, and Greg has no trouble imagining him with a gavel in hand presiding over a trial.

As soon as they appear, they’re gone, and Greg is left alone once more, alone with his thoughts and the pictures of Nick flashing through his mind. He’s not sure how much time passes before Hodges comes in to tell him that it’s his turn to keep the feed up. He walks almost on autopilot, numb. When he gets to the dark room, Sara is sitting there, hand on the mouse, leaning in, with the same look on her face she’s had since they first heard about Nick going missing.

“Hey, Sara. Any change?”

She almost jumps, does start a little. But she doesn’t take her eyes off the screen. “No.” The feed cuts off again and she clicks the button almost with no downtime. Greg takes a couple steps closer, not wanting to look at the video, but unable to look anywhere else.

He pulls up a chair next to Sara, “Go get some coffee, I’ve got it.” She nods absently but doesn’t make any move to do as he suggests. They both stare at the screen for another two minutes until the feed cuts out again. This time, Greg reaches over and moves Sara’s hand, taking the mouse himself. Before clicking again, he turns to look at her. “I’ve got this.”

Finally, she looks at him, “Yeah, yeah ok.” It takes her a long time to get up and move toward the door. Greg doesn’t click the link again until she’s gone, until he’s alone.

Nick looks like he sighs when the video comes back up. Greg stares at the video almost without emotion. Or, at least with the mask of no emotion. He doesn’t want to feel all of the things he’s feeling so he just… shuts it off. Stares blankly at his friend as he sits trapped in a box somewhere. Dying. When they don’t get the money together and go to the ransom point, it’ll be exactly the excuse the kidnapper needs to just let Nick die. And they may never find the body. His family will never get closure. All they’ll have is a video of Nick’s death.

It’s not fair. It isn’t fair that Nick–kind, sweet Nick–is stuck in a hole somewhere and all they can do is _watch_. Greg would do just about anything to hear his voice, hear that Texan drawl. _Hey, Greggo, what do we got?_ He can almost hear the inflection, the friendly tone, can almost see the smile and the way his mouth rounds out as he says Greg’s nickname. The one he had given him.

Greg doesn’t realise he’s smiling until Grissom clears his throat. “O-oh, hey boss.”

“We have the money, I’m going to do the drop.” Greg must look surprised because Grissom pauses. He can’t imagine where they managed to find one million dollars, because he’s pretty sure Nick’s parents couldn’t get that kind of money together on such short notice. After another second of consideration, though, the only person he can think of that would have that kind of money and be willing to give it up would be… Sam Braun. Catherine must have swallowed a lot of pride to ask for that. Just in time, too. The address for a barn in the middle of the desert popped up on the screen not long ago when the timer ran to zero. “Can you handle watching the feed for now?”

It must have been about time for his relief, and Grissom was supposed to take over next. He hadn’t even realised he’s been sitting there that long. “Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

Grissom starts to leave and Greg stops him, “Grissom? Stay safe, ok?”

His supervisor stops in the doorway and looks back with that same look he’s been looking at Greg with all day, this almost pitying look that makes him feel like Grissom knows more than he says. “I will, Greg.”

And then he leaves.

\--

When he gets the call that there was an explosion when Grissom went to do the drop, Greg almost has a heart attack. The followup that Grissom is fine, with just some minor injuries only helps a little. Archie takes over keeping the feed up so everyone else can go to the barn and process the scene. All they manage to uncover after a few hours of messy money collection and processing is the distance the car drove and an identity. Which, admittedly, is more than they had before. But it’s not a location. And Nick is running out of time and no one else knows where he is.

Greg is only managing to keep himself together because he’s working, and even then, he works through some kind of weird numbness. He can’t think, not really. He can only go through the motions, staying behind at the barn to keep processing with Catherine while Sara takes the thumb she found in the debris back to the lab. Warrick heads back as well, Greg doesn’t listen when he leaves, just goes about cataloguing the next square foot of exploded tissue and money.

He doesn’t notice when Warrick comes back, or when Catherine climbs into the truck to gather evidence there. He doesn’t even realise how much time has passed until he finds a tiny twist of wire among the debris. “I found a trigger wire!” he calls, finally letting himself have a little hope, a tiny chance to feel excited. He _found_ something. “Maybe once we reassemble the rest of the bomb, we’ll be able to tell where the bomb came from and maybe-”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe. If we count up all the damn _maybes_ Nick will be ALIVE!” Warrick punctuates his outburst by kicking a jug toward Greg.

Greg gets up, indignant at Warrick’s anger. It’s not even himself that he’s worried about, and he says as much. It’s the evidence. Because Greg understands the anger and the helplessness, but all they _have_ is evidence. And all he can do is believe that will lead them to Nick. Alive or no, as loathe as he is to think that way. Catherine apologises to him and goes to run damage control with Warrick while Greg is left to clean up the mess.

Only, when Greg leans down to pick up the jug, he notices something.

“Guys, come here, I found something!” And this time, he tries not to let himself hope, despite how there is clearly something under the floor. He gets a couple crowbars and they find a square section of dirt underneath. Greg feels his heart leap. Nick is underground. He could be here. The hole isn’t the right size, but Catherine points out he could have been buried upright. It’s something. All three of them drop to their knees to start digging, yelling out Nick’s name, praying he’ll be there.

Greg backs off when someone else shows up with shovels. Catherine, too. When Warrick hits something, Greg’s heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest. He’s frozen to the spot while Catherine and Warrick go back to their knees, trying to clear away the dirt.

White, with black spots, and Greg’s world spins. His knees buckle and it takes his entire being to not pass out right then. It’s not Nick. They didn’t find him. He knew it was a long shot, he knew it probably wouldn’t be him, but he let his hopes get up. And now those hopes are dashed on the road by a dead dog in a box.

\--

They take the box back to the lab. Warrick spends his time analysing the battery mechanism for the fan and the light, confirming what Warrick had assumed when Nick shot out the light: that they’re running on the same battery. It also confirms that by keeping the feed running and the light on, they have massively reduced the time Nick has left. Greg takes swabs around the box, Catherine tries to get prints, Hodges gets in Greg’s personal space… But he doesn’t snap, because everyone is just trying to find something. Trying to help.

And then Warrick explains his math.

Ninety. Minutes.

An hour and a half. That’s all Nick has. That’s all the time they have left to find him, to figure out where the hell he is before they’ll end up finding a dead body. If they find him at all. Greg lets his head fall back. He finishes taking swabs, makes sure they’re all labeled, and pushes them in Hodges’ direction before taking off toward the locker room.

What the _fuck_? An hour and a half is nothing. It’s not enough time. Most of their instruments take longer than that to run a sample. How are they going to be able to find him? How can they get to him before… Greg can’t even think the words, much less say them. How is he going to face it? He can’t imagine not seeing Nick again. Can’t imagine coming to work and not seeing his brilliant Texas smile, that bright smile that has most of the female population of the lab swooning. And half the men, to boot. What if he never gets to hear his voice again, never gets to hear that drawl call him by one of several nicknames he’s come up with? He doesn’t want his last memories of Nick to be a video of him trapped in a box.

Greg sits there in the locker room, alone, head in his hands, just… praying. He’s never been religious. Spiritual, sure. He’s got at least a little stock in the psychic thing Nana Olaf says he has. But it isn’t helping him now, and maybe it’s ok to just hope there’s some kind of higher power that Greg can ask to help them out a little, and if all else fails, someone to yell at if things go badly.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want to look. He’s not sure how long he’s been in there. Warrick is the one with the timer, so the phone call is probably just someone telling him that it’s been too long, that they aren’t looking for a man anymore, but a body.

Something about the insistent buzzing irritates him enough to flip open his phone. One line of a text message pops up on his screen. **Evidence room. Got something.**

Catherine’s text sends a brand new wave of ice through his veins. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be happy or scared, if this is good news or bad. He doesn’t even know how much time has passed. But he’s got somewhere to be, and no matter what, he is going to be there to find Nick. He has to be.

The evidence room is crowded. Everyone is gathered and Grissom walks in without skipping a beat, rambling on about ants. Catherine says something about plant nurseries and Archie makes a big circle on the map where he’s narrowed the trace of the video feed down to. And _finally_ Greg feels useful. He picks up a marker and makes a circle, “And the data from the black box from Walter Gordon’s truck gave us a twenty-three mile travel radius.” Finally, things seem to be coming together, all their work is leading to _something_.

Warrick marks the two nurseries and Sara remembers that Kelly Gordon, the daughter, used to work with plants. She runs out of the room while everyone else just stands there, staring at the doorway. It feels like hours before she comes back, even if it was no more than a few seconds. But it’s the break they needed, she points out the nursery and suddenly, they’re all piling into trucks and police cars at the speed of light.

It’s Catherine that sends up the alarm that she’s got a location, and it’s Warrick that leads the group that starts digging. Greg, Sara, and Grissom stand back, holding flashlights and waiting while the others dig. Greg’s heart is pounding in anticipation. All of the evidence points to this being it, but there is still the possibility that they find another dog or nothing at all.

Warrick’s watch beeps after some time and for a moment, everything freezes. Time’s up. They all stare at each other in horror before Warrick returns to his digging with even more fervour. And when his shovel hits something hard, he’s on his knees and using his hands to brush dirt out of the way. Greg is sure his flashlight is wavering, trembling. His whole body feels like it will vibrate out of existence. Nick is out of air and if they don’t get him out _now_ , then this will have been for nothing.

By the way Warrick is yelling, Greg is pretty sure Nick had been seconds from shooting himself when they finally uncover the box. The next few minutes pass in a blur. Grissom takes over, Nick is crying, there’s something about a bomb, Greg feels like he’s hearing everything underwater. He takes a few steps back, trying to get out of the way when they pull in the back hoe, only stepping in when instructed. There are ants _everywhere_. He can see where the dirt is pouring into the box near Nick’s feet and the ants are dots of red covering everything. Greg’s breath is caught in his throat and he’s frozen, freaking out. Because there Nick is, but he isn’t safe yet.

Nick isn’t safe until they pull him free and the bomb explodes and he, Warrick, and Catherine are taken to the hospital. Greg’s mind is blank while he, Sara, and Grissom alongside Ecklie and Brass watch the ambulance takes them to safety.

He barely hears Grissom’s words. “I want my team back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but the next chapter should be out much faster. And it is also a lot longer.

By the time Greg manages to make it to the hospital, everyone else has already visited Nick. He’d seen Sara after she came back, trying to hide her tears. Greg feels like crying, too. But for some reason, he doesn’t feel like he has a right to. He wasn’t the one stuck in a casket underground for twenty-four hours.

Twenty. Four. Hours.

That’s how long it took them to find Nick. That’s how long he was trapped, suffering, with nothing more than a gun and a tape player with his kidnapper’s voice to keep him company. Greg remembers the way Warrick had broken down in the shed. He hadn't heard everything Warrick said to Catherine, he was too focused on the way liquid was seemingly disappearing into the floor, but he did hear him imply that if it had been him, his choice would have been a bullet.

Nick was almost there. He’d had the gun to his head when they finally found him. He’d lasted those twenty-four hours and that was his breaking point, being eaten alive by ants. He had recorded his suicide note on the flip side of the tape from the kidnapper. Seconds later, and they would have found a box filled with a body, and not their friend. Greg can almost see the blood spatter covering the plexiglass.

But that’s not what happened, so why is it still running through Greg’s head like Nick is still out there? Like they haven’t found him? When Nick most likely is safe in a hospital bed at Desert Palm, surrounded by half their team? He’s safe and Greg is sitting in the parking lot of the hospital to see for himself. But he can’t seem to make himself get out of the car.

While he’s sitting there, trying to will himself to move, to go see Nick for himself, prove the man is alright, Greg sees Doc Robbins and Dave walking into the hospital. And, for some reason, that’s enough. He opens his door and slides out of his car and follows his coworkers at a respectful distance. He’ll just follow them and… it’ll give him strength. Maybe. He hasn’t really thought this through.

He hangs back enough to not be noticed, but close enough to hear where Nick is when his colleagues ask after him. Greg keeps his distance all the way to Nick’s room. He managed to net a private side room, somehow. Good thing, Greg supposes, but he wonders if Nick gets lonely. Or, god forbid, claustrophobic. Although, he imagines the room feels like a mansion after the plexiglass coffin.

God, he hopes Nick is going to be ok.

Not physically, he already knows that. He can see that, from where he’s hanging back, far enough away not to be noticed, but close enough to hear some of the conversation.

“Hey, Doc! And Super Dave! It’s nice to see you guys.”

Greg can’t help but smile to himself, hearing Nick’s voice, gravelly and worn as it is, easily working over the familiar nickname for their friendly assistant coroner. Nick even smiles. And it’s familiar, almost like he hadn’t just spent _twenty-four hours_ locked underground in a tiny box. Almost like he isn’t hurting. Greg can see the welts from ant bites even from his vantage point, but Nick looks like none of it bothers him.

He waits in the hall, trying to look small, while Nick and the coroners talk. The longer he waits, the more his anxiety mounts. The more he questions why he’s even there. Beyond working together, it’s not like he means anything to him. He’s just made up his mind to leave when Doc and Dave come out of the hospital room and see him standing there.

“Greg,” Doc greets, walking toward him, “have you been here long?”

Greg, not wanting to seem like a complete stalker, lies. “Nah, just got here. Figured I’d wait till you guys were done.”

Doc smiles in that way that makes Greg think he’s basically the lab grandfather, “Well, he’s all yours. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

For some reason, Greg doubts that, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just nods with a half smile and ducks his head as he walks into the room, having to keep up this lie or risk looking like a crazy person.

The first step into the room takes his breath away. From in the hall, Greg could see Nick, sure, but inside the room, he’s right there. And he looks… like he was trapped in a box for twenty-four hours and nearly eaten alive by fire ants. But he still _smiles_ so big and bright. “Greggo! I was wondering when you would show up.”

And Greg can’t even come up with a response for that. So he takes a step closer and swallows, “You were?”

“Course. You’re my Greggo.”

Three words and four years worth of memories flood through Greg’s head in an instant. Because even though it felt like no one supported him leading up to his becoming a CSI, even if Catherine seemed like the only person that let him help with cases, it was _Nick_ that started it all. It was Nick that let him process when he was just getting a taste for it. It was Nick that reassured him after he froze up his first time on a scene. And it was Nick that called him _his_ Greggo years ago.

Greg can’t stop the tears pouring from his eyes like a breached dam. “I’m sorry, Nicky,” he sobs.

“Hey, hey, what’s all this for? You got nothing to be sorry for.” Nick’s arm raises as if to reach out to him, but doesn’t get very far. Greg just keeps crying, choking on the lump in his throat. And Nick’s words only seem to make it worse. He sinks into the chair by the bed, raising his hands to his face.

He suddenly goes very quiet when he feels a soft touch against his wrist. Slowly, he peeks out from behind his hands. Tears still flow down his face, but he isn’t actively sobbing anymore. And Nick is looking at him with this expression almost like their positions were reversed, as if Greg is the one in a hospital bed after the worst day of his life instead of Nick. And that makes him feel even worse, because Nick is the one hurting, he’s the one that just went through Hell, he’s the one that should be receiving comfort. Greg doesn’t deserve this.

“Greg. None of this is your fault, it’s ok.”

“It’s not _ok_! You almost died! And you’re just sitting there like nothing is wrong, trying to make _me_ feel better.” The word vomit explodes from him before he can stop any of it. And, well, he’s not crying anymore. Now his face is heated from the tear tracks and his outburst.

“Greg.” Greg can’t even look at Nick, he stares resolutely down at his lap. “Greg, look at me.” He’s so quiet, his voice almost doesn’t have the scrape of gravel and dryness. And Greg thinks it’s probably the seriousness there that finally makes Greg look up.

Nick is looking at him in his way and it’s so intense and so pure, it’s hard to keep looking. But Nick asked him to, so he does. “What?”

“It _is_ ok. I won’t lie, I’m terrified. Walter Gordon is dead but I’m still looking over my shoulder. I can’t sleep unless they knock me out, trust me, I’ve tried. I won’t let them turn out the lights because the heart monitor glows green and reminds me of being in there. But, Greg, I’m _alive_. Up until the door on that box opened, up until that moment, I was sure I was going to die in that box. And even after that, I had my doubts. But I’m alive. And that makes it ok.”

Greg’s mouth opens. And closes. Opens again. And closes again. He keeps trying to come up with something to say, but nothing seems adequate. Nick just opened up to him. Admitted to all the weakness he feels, laid it all out, just to make Greg understand.

And now he feels like even more of an asshole.

“How do you… how do you do that?” he wonders aloud.

Nick gives him an odd look, “Do what?”

“Do… _that_. Be so strong, I don’t know… I should just… I should just leave. I’m sorry, I’m making things worse, aren’t I?” The last bit he says mostly to himself, quiet and almost an afterthought.

Nick is staring at him with the expression Greg can’t place but it makes him feel… naked. Exposed. Like Nick is staring into his soul. “Don’t go.” And those two words are raw. Painful. Broken.

It’s what Greg had been expecting from the start, and now realises he never wants to hear again. It fills him with such pain for Nick. He leans forward and takes Nick’s hand. “I won’t. I’ll stay, long as you want.”

Nick’s head rolls on the pillow until he’s facing forward, staring at nothing, “Good. Good. That’s good.” Greg is pretty sure the words aren’t meant to be responded to, so he doesn’t.

They chat, absently, after a while. Off and on. But mostly they just sit in silence. Greg watches Nick, trying not to look like he’s staring, and hopes he’ll fall asleep. He doesn’t, though there are a few times Greg thinks he’s pretty close. But every time he’s about to drift off, Nick flinches or inhales sharply, waking himself up again.

“Nicky?” Greg whispers some time later, when Nick has his eyes closed again but is still awake.

Nick’s eyes slide open and his head turns toward Greg again, “Yeah, Greggo?”

Greg tries to smile, but he’s pretty sure it’s obvious he’s just trying to look brave, “Maybe we should get a nurse to give you something, you should rest.”

“Mmm,” Nick hums. He closes his eyes again and turns away again. He’s quiet for a long time, so long that Greg assumes he’s just going to blow off Greg’s suggestion, maybe try and fall asleep himself again. By the time Greg is resigned to continuing the pattern of watching him try to sleep only to fail, Nick speaks again. “Yeah,” he turns toward Greg again, “You’ll stay?”

This time, Greg’s smile is real, at least has real emotion in it, even if it isn’t the happiest of emotions. “I’m not going anywhere.” There’s still hours before his next shift and he’s sure if he tells Grissom where he is, he’ll get the time off.

The corners of Nick’s mouth turn up slightly, but it’s clear he’s exhausted. “Call button is… here.” Nick’s voice is getting quieter, more strained. Greg leans over to hit the call button for Nick and tells the nurse that responds that he needs something for sleep. Once she’s administers the drugs, Nick is asleep moments later.

With Nick actually asleep, Greg doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He won’t leave, not after he promised to Nick he’d stay. So he spends the time thinking. Thinks about the way Nick spoke to him, the emotions he’d shared. He hopes Nick’s sleep is dreamless, free of the nightmares he’s so scared of. He looks peaceful. Relaxed and pain free, at least for now. Greg studies the welts covering Nick’s body, counts them several times, just to keep himself busy. He doesn’t even realise he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up later with a very sore neck.

Nick is still asleep, but there’s someone else in the room now. Greg turns and sees Nick’s parents standing near the doorway. “Oh, sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”

“It’s ok, hun. Thank you for staying with him. You work with him, right?” Nick’s mom‒ Greg is pretty sure her name is Jillian‒ speaks to him, while his father stands quietly with an arm around her.

“Uh, yeah. Greg. Greg Sanders. Sorry we didn’t get to meet properly with everything…” he trails off, not sure what, or how much, to say.

“Greg… You’re the one that used to work in the lab, right? Nick’s mentioned you.”

That surprises him. Not that Nick talks to his mom, or even that he talks about work, but that he would talk about _Greg_. By _name_ to her. Greg smiles self consciously, “Yeah, yeah that’s me. Didn’t think he talked about me.”

She gives him this knowing smile, like she has a secret she wants nothing more than to tell. It’s kind of odd, considering everything that’s happened, but Greg feels strangely calmed by it.

“Hey, don’t talk about me when I can’t defend myself.” Nick’s voice is exceptionally gravely from disuse as he wakes. His mother rushes over to his bedside with his father close behind. She grabs his hand and dotes on him while his father stands stoically at the side of his bed.

“How are you doing, Pancho?”

And there’s that nickname again. Greg remembers Grissom using it to keep Nick calm while they tried to free him from the box. Clearly, it came from his dad, which explains why it had been effective when Nick had been nearly out of his mind with panic.

Suddenly, Greg feels like he’s intruding. He stands and everyone in the room is suddenly looking at him. He can feel his cheeks blush, “I, ah, it’s getting late. Almost time for work.”

Nick has the gall to look disappointed and Greg almost backpedals. But he’s pretty sure Nick’s parents want some time with their son and he’s also pretty sure he doesn’t get a monopoly on his time, even if Nick had asked him to stay. “I’ll come back after shift, if you want…” He shoves his hands deep in his pockets, nervous from all of the eyes on him.

And then Nick smiles that beautiful smile of his, “I’d like that.”

Before Greg can wait for his heart to explode out of his chest, he offers a small wave at everyone and offers his goodbyes before retreating out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK OK I'm never writing for this dead ass fandom ever again (that might be a lie, I don't know)

Greg’s shift turns into a double, because of course it does. Not only is there evidence from Nick’s case that still needs filing and documenting, but now there is a new case that demands his attention as well. Sin City never sleeps, even when the Crime Lab is recovering from a traumatic case. Everyone is swamped, working cases that got pushed aside while they all focused on Nick. By the time Greg gets to clock out, he’s exhausted. He hasn’t gone home in days, and he is all out of spare clothes in his locker at the lab.

As much as he wants to visit Nick again, he needs a shower and a change of clothes. He really needs a nap, but decides against it. He promised Nick he would come back, and he doesn’t intend on breaking that promise. So he drives to his apartment, already finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t even bother turning on most of the lights. Only the ones in his bedroom and bathroom, enough to change and shower.

As warm water falls down upon him in the shower, he lets himself breathe. He feels like he hasn’t really, in days. Not since before Nick was taken. Even spending all that time at his bedside didn’t let Greg breathe. And throwing himself back into work didn’t seem to help either. But now, standing in his shower, letting time disappear and his brain go a little fuzzy as he fights off sleep. It finally starts to sink in that Nick is alive. He’s alive and maybe not _well_ , but getting there.

And, suddenly, Greg feels light. He’s not as tired anymore, and he can feel himself smiling so big that it makes him giddy and just makes his smile even bigger. It’s like some second wind runs through him. And now he’s excited to see Nick again, something warm spreading through his chest.

He finishes up in the shower quickly after that. Throws on some clothes, making sure he doesn’t look like he’s just spent practically three days without sleep, except for the few hours he got in an uncomfortable position in a hospital chair at Nick’s bedside. He even puts a little effort into his hair, going for that effortless thing.

Twenty minutes later, Greg pulls up to the visitor’s parking lot of Desert Palm Hospital. He’s still smiling, but the intensity has faded some. Not that the feeling in his chest has,he’s just managed to calm down enough to not look like a grinning idiot.

This time, he walks the halls confidently, remembering the way to the side room easily, despite the confusing halls of the hospital. He turns into the side room, knocks to announce himself before pushing the door open. His face falls immediately.

Nick isn’t there.

The bed is empty, and Greg’s mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusion. He stands there, frozen in shock, for what feels like forever but can’t be more than a few moments. And then the door behind him opens.

“Hey, Greg, you work a double?”

Greg turns, still frozen. But upon seeing Nick, his knees buckle and he nearly falls over. Nick steps forward and puts his hand on his bicep to steady him. Even hospital bound, Nick is still there, ready to help, ready to catch Greg when he falls. “Woah, there, partner. Maybe you should sit down.”

Greg shakes his head, trying to clear himself of the adrenaline coursing through his body at his momentary fear that his friend had survived hell only to die in a hospital. “I should be telling you that,” he mumbles, but allows Nick to steer him toward the chair. Once situated, with Greg in the visitor’s chair and Nick sitting on the edge of his bed, Greg gives him a scowl, “Don’t do that to me!” He punches at Nick’s shoulder, but he holds back, not wanting to hurt him in any way.

“Sorry, Greggo, but I don’t really like using the bedpan, if you catch my drift.”

And that makes Greg blush, for some reason. He feels kind of bad, yelling at Nick for scaring him, but at the same time, he’s had enough fear, enough heartache, for a lifetime. “It’s good to see you moving around.”

“Good to be moving around,” Nick smiles brightly. “Can’t wait to get the hell out of here. Sleep in my own bed.”

For some reason, that makes an image pop into Greg’s head of Nick sleeping. He see’s Nick’s relaxed face as he’s curled up comfortably under a blanket with his legs tangled around, making a mess of the covers. A thin shaft of midday sunlight lays across him, just lighting the room between the blackout shades so he can rest before the night shift. It’s such a vivid image, it has Greg turning his head down to try to hide the way his face heats up. “Yeah, I bet.”

They chat easily after that. Nick looks much better. It’s only been a day since he was last here, but Greg can tell it’s done worlds of good for Nick. His face has more colour, his welts are fading, and he’s smiling even easier. But at the same time, something makes Greg feel uneasy. He remembers the things Nick had told him before. And it’s just getting dark but the lights are still on, and he’s got a feeling the trip to the bathroom may have been about more than just a full bladder.

“How are you feeling, Nicky?”

Greg’s question practically cuts Nick off from whatever he had been saying. The other man looks at him with an almost bewildered expression. For a few moments, they just stare at each other, an odd silence hanging in the air. Slowly, Nick’s expression turns from bewildered to thoughtful. Then, eventually, he speaks. “Why did you come here, Greg?”

That’s the last thing Greg was expecting to hear. But he supposes it’s fair, to answer a question with a question, especially if he’s dodging Greg’s. He knows Nick can tell the question meant more than what the words implied. Still, Nick’s question confuses him. “I told you I would.”

Nick smiles at him, but it’s… sad. Disappointed, even. Greg wants to wipe the look off his face, wants desperately to say the words to make him happy again. But he doesn’t have the first clue how to do that. Obviously, his answer wasn’t what Nick was looking for and he is pretty sure he’d move mountains to have the right answer.

“Yeah, you did.” The words he says are driving the point home. This was a test of some kind. And Greg failed.

He tries to shrug it off. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Nick sighs, letting whatever moment that had passed between them there slip away. “I’m good. Better.” There’s tension in his jaw, and Greg can _see_ he’s not getting the whole story.

But he also can tell that he’s not really welcome to press. So he drops it, lets Nick change the subject as he lays back into his bed. The conversation drifts again and they almost return to their classic easy banter. Almost. But there’s still a tension that Greg hates. It feels wrong.

Some time later, Greg glances down at his watch, “It’s getting late. You, uh… I can go, if you want some rest.”

Nick seems to hesitate, glancing around the room as if he’s searching for something. Then he fixes Greg with this tired, ageless stare. “Greg.” The way he says his name commands attention. It takes the breath from him. He swallows hard and nods, indicating that he’s listening. “ _Why_ are you here?”

And this time, Greg knows it’s a test. Or at least, he knows there is a right answer, and it’s not the one he gave before. But it is another chance to give the right one. “I- I’m not sure what you want me to say, Nick.”

Nick smiles sadly again, “Well, the truth works.”

Greg flounders. The truth? He says it like his prior answer had been a lie. It hadn’t, Greg had come here because he said he would. But that’s not good enough, he supposes. It’s true, but it isn’t really the reason. It’s the reason he made himself go through with it, but it’s not the reason he came, the reason he offered to come in the first place.

No, that’s- “I guess it’s cuz… I care about you.” His mouth works before his brain, and it brings him to the sudden and complete realisation that it’s true. He cares. And not like a coworker cares about his colleague, either. There’s something deeper there. Something more. He’s not sure he’s ready to admit to all that quite yet, seems like a lot to put on a guy that went through hell and is still in the hospital because of it. But maybe…

Greg looks up from his lap, where he hadn’t even realised he’d been staring while his mind reeled with this newfound information about himself. He isn’t sure what it was he was expecting to see when he meets Nick’s eyes, but it isn’t the wide, bright smile he gets. Apparently, that was the right answer. Or at least _a_ right answer, an answer Nick was hoping for, if his reaction is any judgement.

“In that case, I could use the company, if you’re willing.”

Nick’s smile is so brilliant, but there’s an edge of vulnerability Greg isn’t used to seeing. He grins, nodding. “What about your parents?”

“They flew back to Texas earlier today. I’m out of the woods now, just waiting for discharge. No reason for them to keep their lives on hold anymore.”

Greg grins again, “Somehow I don’t think that was their decision.”

Nick barks out a sharp laugh, “Yeah, well, they care too much sometimes.” He pauses, smile fading some but not disappearing, then, very quietly, almost shyly, “I think it wasn’t until I mentioned you that they finally agreed.”

Greg has no idea what to do with that knowledge. He’s pretty sure he’s supposed to do _something_ but he’s at a complete loss as to what that something is. So he smiles and does the only thing he really knows how to do when he gets nervous and flustered. He flirts.

“Parents love me, I tell you. Don’t worry, Nicky, I’ll take real good care of you.” He covered his anxiety with his classic grin, confidence despite how incredibly nervous he feels.

Somehow, it earns a smile, “I’m sure you will, I’ll hold you to it.”

Greg’s grin morphs into a full-blown smile and their conversation turns light and airy again. The hospital gets quieter as they converse well into the night, lights in nearby rooms and wards going out while Greg and Nick stay up talking, lights still bright. Eventually, Greg can’t keep his mouth shut. “How are you sleeping?”

Nick’s mouth snaps shut and sets into a thin line. Greg is worried he’s asked too much, that he doesn’t get to know Nick’s inner demons and thoughts. It’s not like he’s actually done anything to earn it besides being there when he unloaded before. He’s about to apologise when Nick responds. “I’m not.”

“Nick…”

“Don’t, Greg. I know. I’m dealing with it, I just need to get out of this hospital and into my own bed.”

Sure, he understands that sentiment. But that doesn’t make it any better. “And what happens when you can’t sleep there?”

“Then… I’ll deal with it. Don’t know what else I _can_ do.”

Greg picks at a loose thread in the hem of his shirt, “You can always ask for help. Rely on us, your team. On me. We’re here to help you, Nick. _I’m_ here for you.”

Nick looks at him for a long time with an entirely unreadable expression. Without a word, he pats around until he finds his call button. A nurse joins them in the room moments later. “Need something, Mr. Stokes?”

“Yeah, discharge papers.”

The nurse smiles apologetically, “You know we can’t do that, you aren’t ready to go home yet.”

A flash of anger, something Greg rarely sees so potent on Nick’s features, darkens his face, “Find me a doctor, I’m more than capable of getting some rest in my own bed.”

There’s a moment where Greg is pretty sure the nurse is planning on arguing, but then she holds up her hands, “I’ll send someone in.”

“Nick, are you su-”

“I’m sure. I’m going home to my own bed.”

Greg frowns, but doesn’t say anything more. Soon, a doctor comes in, explains Nick’s situation and why he should stay in the hospital for another day. Nick argues, saying he can handle hydrating himself, saying he’ll check in every day if he needs to, he can handle applying his medications to what remains of his bites, he’s not in excruciating pain anymore. Eventually, the doctor concedes, telling him he’ll have to sign an AMA form and have someone else drive him.

“I can drive him.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since the doctor arrived.

“And you are?” The doctor looks at him like it’s the first time he’s seeing him.

“Ah, uh, Greg Sanders, CSI. I work with Nick. I’ve got my car out front, I can take Nick home.”

The doctor looks him over, evaluating. Greg has never felt quite so scrutinised‒ which is impressive, since he works with Grissom. Eventually, the doctor turns back to Nick. “And you’ll need someone to stay with you, you’ll need support and help at home.”

Nick is about to say something and Greg can just tell that it’s going to be argumentative and unhelpful, so he speaks up instead. “I can do that, too.”

Both the doctor and Nick stare at him like he has two heads. “Greg, you don’t h-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. I can do it, I can stay with him.” He directs the last part toward the doctor.

Said doctor stares again, glancing between him and Nick, maybe trying to suss out if he’s lying just to help Nick get out of the hospital. And while that’s probably a thing Greg wouldn’t mind doing for Nick, he’s completely sincere. He’s more than willing to help. He knows Nick is struggling in the hospital and if he needs to have someone at home with him in order to go home, Greg is willing to be that someone… If Nick lets him. But that will be a conversation for after they get him out of the hospital.

“Fine, I’ll get the paperwork and your prescriptions while you gather your things.” He turns and quickly leaves the room and Nick smiles triumphantly.

“Thank you, G.”

Greg smiles at the obvious delight in Nick’s features, “No problem, man.”

An hour later, Nick is being wheeled out via wheelchair (something he couldn’t convince the hospital staff to forego) and Greg is carrying a box of the things Nick had managed to accumulate during his stay. Mostly just get well cards and photos.

Once they’re both settled into Greg’s car, with Nick in the passenger seat and Greg in the driver’s seat, they’re ready to head out. Before Greg can pull out of his spot though, Nick stops him. “You really don’t have to do this, Greg.”

Greg looks at him with a smile, “Well, how else are you going to get home, Nicky? It’s not like you have a car here.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You don’t have to stay with me, I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Greg laughs, deciding he can drive while they have this conversation.

”I appreciate what you did to get me out of the hospital, but you don’t have to drop everything for me.”

Greg glances over, “I meant what I said, Nick. We’ll stop at my place so I can get some clothes and then I’ll stay with you. Until the doctor clears you or you kick me out, whichever comes first.”

Nick doesn’t say anything to that, so Greg assumes the matter is settled. The drive is silent after that, so Greg fusses around with the radio for a bit, before settling on a station he’s pretty sure Nick won’t hate. He bops his head slightly to the music as he drives.

It doesn’t take too long before pulling into his apartment complex. “I’ll be quick, but you can come in if you want.”

For a moment, Greg is sure he’s going to decline, but then Nick nods and goes to release himself from the seatbelt. Greg instinctively moves to help him, but decides against it, knowing Nick is perfectly capable of moving around himself and probably wouldn’t appreciate any doting. So instead, he simply leads the way up to his apartment and holds the door open for his coworker.

Once inside, Greg points Nick toward the living room while he disappears into his bedroom. He throws an old Stanford duffle on his bed and starts grabbing enough clothes and toiletries to last him for a few days. If he needs more than that, he can always come back. It’s not like Nick lives all that far away, anyway.

When he finishes, he throws the bag over his shoulder and heads back out to the living room to collect Nick. “Just let me grab some coffee from the kitchen and I’m all set,” he says, walking out into the living room. He catches Nick examining a few of his little science experiments he has displayed in the room.

“Is this ferrofluid?”

Greg grins, “Yup,” he steps close and flicks a switch, causing the liquid to fall into the basin below. “When the field is off, it’s just a liquid, but when it’s on,” he flicks the switch again and the fluid slowly starts moving back to its former position around the central rod, “the fluid reacts with the magnetic field. Just don’t put your credit cards near it.”

“Awesome,” Nick says, watching the fluid build up around the rod. Eventually, he tears his eyes away, only for them to land on another experiment. “And what’s this?” he asks, pointing to a beaker in a small fume hood, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Again, Greg can’t help but smile with pride. “That is a Briggs-Rauscher Reaction. You can tell time with them, but I just think it looks cool.”

“It sure does,” Nick mutters absently, clearly taken with watching the liquid change colours every few moments. Greg can’t help but watch Nick watching the little experiment. It’s not often Greg has someone that actually finds his odd sense of decoration _cool_.

Greg is about to turn away and grab the coffee he’d mentioned when Nick speaks up again. “It’s cleaner in here than I’d expected.”

“I think I’m offended,” Greg says. “Contrary to popular belief, I like to keep a clean space. You remember what the lab looked like when I ran it.”

Nick winces, like he thinks he’s done something wrong. Maybe Greg’s tone had been a little harsher than intended. “Yeah, sorry, I guess… Everyone seems to be under the impression your place is a mess. But it’s not.”

“Nope,” he pops the p, reaching into his cabinet for a bag of his coffee, tossing it on top of his clothes in the duffel. “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

Greg smiles as he holds the door open again before closing it behind them and locking it, “You apologise too much, Nicky.”

He doesn’t get a response to that, but they both get back in the car and Greg starts driving again, this time toward Nick’s house.

“You know where I live?” Nick asks, as they pull into his driveway.

Greg can feel his face heating up, “Well, yeah. I mean your address was all over your files when we were trying to find you.”

“Well,” Nick says, getting out of the car, “Welcome to Casa del Stokes.”

They walk up the walkway together and Nick fishes around in his pocket for his keys before letting them into the house. Greg tries not to stare too much as he makes his way in. He takes his shoes off, taking a hint from the way Nick does the same, and sets his duffel down next to the couch. ”Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Nick mumbles. He sets his box from the hospital down on a counter before disappearing behind a fridge door. “Uh, I think I’ve got some beer in here, if you want. Not much food that isn’t spoiled, sorry.”

Greg smiles good-naturedly, “No worries, I can go pick some stuff up in the morning. And sure, I’ll take a beer.”

When Nick closes the fridge door, he’s holding two bottles. He walks over after popping off the caps to give one to Greg then motions for them to sit on the couch together. Greg mutters his thanks, suddenly feeling exceptionally awkward. He fidgets while he sips at his beer.

“You really don’t have to stay here, G. I can handle myself. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Greg sits on that for a minute. Chewing on it. On one hand, it sounds like Nick is pushing him away. But there’s a quality to his tone that makes Greg think there’s more to it. He remembers the way Nick had asked him to stay, that first time he visited. That’s what he hears now. Not the words, but the tone. The vulnerability, the waver in his voice.

“I told you, I’m staying until the doctor clears you or you kick me out. So if you want to kick me out, go ahead. Otherwise, I’ll take the couch.”

Nick doesn’t respond, but he does nod and doesn’t argue. He finishes his beer in record time though. Greg wants to comment on that, but he’s pretty sure that would be a bad idea. Instead he polishes off his own bottle and sets it on the coffee table. “You should get some sleep.”

Again, Nick only nods. “I’ve got some extra blankets in the hall closet, let me get you some stuff first.” Greg stands and follows Nick to the closet, offering his arms to help carry the bedding supplies. They’re quiet as they lay out bedding for Greg on the couch together. But they don’t need to speak, they have enough of an understanding of each other, work well enough together, that they don’t need the words. Greg smiles to himself when he realises this, enjoying the way they move as one unit, even for something so simple as making a temporary guest bed.

“What?”

Nick’s voice knocks Greg from his thoughts only to find the other man staring at him. Greg’s smile drops but a moment later, he feels it return to his face. “Just thinking about how great a team we make.”

Suddenly, his embarrassing admission is completely worth it, because a smile spreads across Nick’s face and it’s so genuine and warm. “We sure do, Greggo.”

The stand there and stare at each other, smiling, until Nick coughs and ducks his head, “Well, I’ll see you in the morning then. Help yourself to anything if you need it, bathroom is at the end of the hall. Don’t feel bad if you need to wake me.”

“You just worry about yourself, Nicky, I’ll be fine.”

\--

Greg has never been a heavy sleeper. Maybe it’s because he grew up an only child, coddled by his mother. Maybe it’s because he’s always had a suspicious personality. It doesn’t matter, because it’s somewhere around four in the morning when he wakes to a soft whimpering sound. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, why his bed doesn’t feel right. He blinks, refamiliarising himself with Nick’s living room. He hears another soft whimper, and a gasp, and his heart drops into his stomach.

Nick doesn’t have any pets, it’s only the two of them in the house, and the air conditioner isn’t running at this time of night. Which means those whimpers have to be coming from Nick.

Greg is up and walking down the hall before he has time to think about it. But as he gets closer to the closed door of Nick’s room, he starts doubting himself. He knows Nick needs help, can hear the sounds he’s making, the choked cries. But he doesn’t know if that’s something he should be providing. Still, he is pretty sure he can’t stand by while Nick suffers like this. Steeling himself, he knocks gently at the door. “Nick? Nicky?” He hears another moan of fear, but no reaction to his knocking. He knocks one more time before turning the knob carefully and pushing the door slowly open.

Nick’s room is messier than Greg had envisioned. Especially considering how immaculate the rest of the house seems to be. But he doesn’t really have time to notice or analyse Nick’s cleanliness because he’s there, tossing and turning on his bed and tangled in his sheets. Greg can remember so clearly when they found him, the way he cried, the terror in his eyes. That’s what he looks like now, trapped reliving his hell on repeat. Greg is on his knees at the bedside in less than a second. But he hesitates before touching Nick, hands hovering over him, unsure. Eventually, he lays one hand on the bed and the other gently on Nick’s shoulder. “Hey, Nicky. Wake up, it’s ok, you’re ok.”

It takes a few moments of gentle coaxing, Nick is a much heavier sleeper than Greg apparently, but eventually Nick’s eyes open wide, darting around the room like he’s trying to figure out where he is. He starts struggling again, “Hey, Nicky, it’s me, you’re safe. Calm down.”

Finally, Nick’s eyes find Greg’s and it’s like everything just leaves him at once. His body melts into a puddle in the mattress. Greg heaves a heavy sigh of relief, “Hey, you’re back.”

Nick’s head lolls toward Greg, eyes barely open and not very focused. “Hey, I’m-”

“If you say you’re sorry, I’m gonna hit you.” For a moment, Nick’s lips twitch into a ghost of a smile before it’s gone. Greg’ll take it. “I knew you were having trouble sleeping, but this is serious, Nick. Maybe we should go back to the ho-”

“No.”

It’s said with such finality that Greg doesn’t even consider arguing. “Ok, well… how can I help? You can’t live like this.”

Nick closes his eyes and takes a breath through his teeth. “I don’t know, Greg. I need…”

He can tell Nick wants to say something, but won’t. And Greg can’t read minds. He tries to wrack is brain for something he can do to help. “Let me get you some water,” he tries, moving to get up.

A hand wraps around his wrist before he can get very far. “Don’t.”

Greg had known, Nick had told him after all, that Nick was struggling. But Nick is always so bright and strong and nothing ever seems to phase him for long. But this is different. Nick isn’t hiding behind smiles and work, not for Greg anyway. He’s open and vulnerable and he is not ok. And if there is anything that Greg can do, he’s willing. He settles back down on his knees next to the bed, “Ok, alright, I’m here.”

Nick looks like he’s in pain, squeezing his eyes shut again and tossing his free arm over his forehead. “I’m sorry, Greg, I just can’t be alone right now, I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in all this.”

“Do you apologise for everything?” He means for it to be light banter, but it feels like his tone might be a little more serious than he intends.

Still, it makes Nick’s lips turn up and he turns his head to look at Greg from under his arm. “Must be those Texas manners,” he jokes.

Greg smiles, pleased that Nick is joking despite everything. Silence falls between them and stretches on a little longer than is comfortable. Eventually, Greg breaks it, “Well, I’m not going to kneel here all night, I can move the bedding from the couch and set up on the floor,” he offers.

Nick appraises him and it almost feels like he’s in an interrogation room, maybe a family member of one of the victims. Or a suspect. Either way, it makes Greg’s cheeks heat under the scrutiny.

“Or you could just get in the bed.”

He’s sure he imagines the words. He can’t have heard right, there’s no way. He stares with his mouth open, completely frozen in shock. “Or not, you don’t have to, sor-”

Before Nick can finish apologising, Greg is on his feet to get to the other side of the bed. He lays down on top of the covers before his brain catches up. His body stiffens and he feels awkward. He’s _in Nick’s bed_. It’s mere hours since he realised his feelings toward Nick could be a little more than coworkers and now he’s laying in bed next to him. His heart races and he can’t bring himself to look at Nick, whose heat he can feel along his side.

He feels Nick shift and out of the corner of his eye he sees how he turns on his side to face Greg. “If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay.”

Greg takes a deep breath before turning his head, “You kicking me out, Stokes?”

“Not unless you want to go, but you could stand to get more comfortable if you want to stay.”

Comfortable. He’s not sure he can, not like this, not when he’s struggling with figuring his feelings out and isn’t willing to let Nick, struggling with his own issues, in on that just yet.

Still, he tries. Slowly, he adjusts until he’s under the covers. And now Nick’s heat next to him is even more intense, separated only by his old band shirt, thin flannel pants, and Nick’s sweats and _oh my god_ he’s not wearing a shirt. How had he not noticed that earlier? He’s supposed to be a CSI, he’s supposed to notice things.

And now he can’t _stop_ noticing. The soft sound of Nick’s breathing, the way his lips quirk up as he watches Greg try to settle into the bed, the sparkle in his eye even as his eyelids are heavy, trying to pull him back to sleep. The twitch of his fingers far too close to where Greg has his own hand resting between them.

It’s all too much for Greg to relax, but Nick seems to not have that problem. His breathing has deepened and evened out in the time Greg has been freaking out. A quick glance reveals Nick’s serene face, calm, eyes closed. Asleep. Greg smiles, watching Nick sleep for a while until he finally relaxes enough to fall asleep himself.

\--

Greg wakes slowly to the feeling of heat. Way too much heat. He can hear an air conditioner running but he’s still far too hot. He blinks and finds bright light blocked by… something. He pulls his head back and finds himself staring at skin.

The night before comes back to him in a rush. Nick, after a nightmare, asking Greg to stay. Only Greg hadn’t considered the fact that he hasn’t slept in the same bed as another human being since he lived in New York. And that the last time he did that, he discovered he has a penchant for… clinging. In his sleep. And the reason he’s so warm right now is because he’s latched himself around Nick and their combined body heat under the blanket with the Vegas sun slanting through a crack in the blackout blinds has created a very effective space heater.

Greg slowly, gently, tries to pull himself free from the awkward position he’s made for himself. If Nick wakes up and he’s clinging like this he’ll… Well, he won’t get the _wrong_ idea exactly. But he’s probably not going to be happy. Nick just needed emotional support, not some clingy whatever he is.

“Mmm.” Greg freezes as Nick makes a sound in his sleep, terrified he’s woken his friend up and is going to have to explain why he’s wrapped around him. But Nick just readjusts with another sleepy moan. Greg continues to pull himself away until he’s free of the other body and can climb out of the bed. He sends a silent thank you to whatever powers that be that Nick is a heavier sleeper than he is before creeping out of the room and finding his way to the bathroom.

After he finishes his abbreviated morning routine, catching a quick shower, and digging through his bag for his toothbrush, he locates Nick’s coffee maker and gets to work brewing his morning pot. Morning is a bit of an exaggeration, though. Working on the night shift is hell on the bodies internal clock. It’s midafternoon when he looks at the time.

Speaking of work, Greg pulls out his phone. He scrolls to Grissom’s name in his contact and hits send.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Grissom, sorry if I woke you. I know this is short notice but I think I’m going to have to take a few days off.”

Greg can almost see Grissom frowning on the other end of the line, but the answer surprises him. “That’s fine, Greg, just make sure you file it with the department. And Greg?”

It takes Greg a moment to process how easy this is going. He shakes his head, “Yeah?”

“Take care of him.”

The line goes quiet before he can respond. Greg does a run through of how Grissom could possibly know he’s staying with Nick. Maybe if he talked to the hospital? Or maybe he’s just doing that thing he does. That Grissom thing. Where he just seems to know everything.

Before he can think on it too much more, Nick comes stumbling out of the hall, still shirtless, “Hey, missed you when I woke up.”

Greg’s face flushes hot and he knows it’s obvious, but hiding would be worse. So he just holds up his mug, “There’s coffee, if you want.”

Nick saunters into the kitchen, stepping up almost too close to Greg, “Is that your fancy coffee? I thought you were possessive over that stuff.”

Again, Greg blushes. Maybe Nick will believe it’s the heat from the coffee if he asks. Probably not. “I am.” He leaves it there, letting the unspoken implication hang in the air for Nick to hear or ignore, whichever he chooses.

“Well, it would be rude to pass up an offer like that, wouldn’t it?”

Greg grins, turning around to pour another cup, “Yeah, and somehow I think your ‘Texas manners’ won’t let you be rude, right?” It’s a joke, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder of everything that happened last night.

When Greg turns around, Nick is smiling as he takes the mug from him. “That’s how my mama raised me.”

“I met your mother, I’m pretty sure she would have something to say about walking around half naked with guests over.”

This time, Greg gets to watch Nick’s face go pink. _Cute_. And that has Greg’s face warming yet again. He shouldn’t be thinking about his coworker as cute.

Nick recovers quickly from his apparent embarrassment, though. “Are you complaining?”

He chokes on his coffee, sputtering bits of his precious brew all over his shirt and onto Nick, still standing way too close. He swallows quickly, coughing to clear his throat, before apologising profusely.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, partner. Still need a shower anyway.” Nick grins at him as he rips off a paper towel from a roll nearby.

Meanwhile, Greg is busy trying to think of anything but the image of water running over Nick’s body in the shower. Because if he keeps dwelling on that image, he’s going to have a much bigger problem to hide. He coughs again, sliding out from where Nick has nearly trapped him against the counter. “Well, you do that, I’ll go to the store and get us something to eat.”

Nick nods, backing off from Greg with a grin as he takes a sip from his mug. “Sure, yeah.” He takes another drink. “Hey, don’t you have to work or something?”

Greg turns back to Nick from where he had escaped to shuffle through his duffel, “Huh? Oh, called Grissom, he said I can take a few days.”

The following silence settles deep in Greg’s chest and he wonders if he didn’t just make a huge mistake.

“What did you tell him?”

His chest feels tight. “I didn’t, actually. I just said I was going to take a few days.”

“And he just… let you? That doesn’t sound like Grissom…” There’s a slight touch of accusation to his tone.

“Well,” Greg starts, unsure how to approach this, “he… kind of guessed why.” He winces, readying himself for the pain he’ll feel when Nick starts explaining what a disaster that is.

“Of course he did.”

The words are enough to make Greg look back at him in shock. “What? You’re not mad?”

Nick laughs and the sound heals Greg’s soul, “Why would I be mad? I’m pretty sure Grissom is actually a Jedi or something.”

And that makes Greg laugh, “Never knew you were that kind of nerd, Nicky.”

“What, I thought everyone liked Star Wars.”

Greg should probably say something witty, snarky, anything. But he’s too captured by the little smirking smile and genuine confusion Nick has on his face. It’s just too adorable. He’s so… beautiful. The word comes to mind before Greg can stomp it out. And it’s true, but he’s not about to admit that out loud any time soon.

Nick’s smile spreads slowly, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Greg schools his expression, wiping the smile from his face. But he can’t wipe it completely away, he’s too dazzled by looking at the way Nick is smiling at him, shirtless. “Like what?”

He’s pretty sure Nick is going to say something, press the issue, try and use his investigative mind to suss out exactly what’s on Greg’s mind. But Nick is suddenly looking… almost shy. He shrugs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Greg has to catch himself from questioning Nick, afraid that he’d drop it and not elaborate. Instead, he offers his brightest smile, “Well, then you’ve got plenty to teach me.”

This time, it’s Nick’s turn to choke. Only he isn’t midway into a sip of coffee so there isn’t any spray. Greg gives Nick a break and pulls on a hoodie and grabs his sunglasses and keys. “Anyway, I’m going to the store, anything specific I should get?”

There’s a look of thanks that passes over Nick’s features, “Anything but peanut butter. Can’t stand the stuff.”

Greg smiles, choosing not to tell Nick he already knew that fact about him. Instead he just offers a little wave before heading out.

\--

Greg pulls back up Nick’s driveway about an hour later with a few bags full of groceries. He thinks about going in and asking for Nick’s help to bring things in, but there aren’t that many bags and Nick should rest. So he gathers them up together in his hands and hopes Nick didn’t lock him out while he was gone. It takes a little effort, but he manages to push the door open so he can step inside and kick it closed again.

He takes the bags to the kitchen and starts unloading. “Nick,” he calls, “I’m back.” There’s no reply, but he can hear the shower running so he’s not surprised. He busies himself putting things away, occasionally struggling with the setup of Nick’s kitchen.

When he’s finished, he tosses the bags into recycling, because of course Nick has recycling set up, and looks around awkwardly. It’s then that he realises that the shower is still running. Nick had said he was going to take a shower while Greg was gone, so he didn’t think much of it when he walked in, but he left an hour ago. Even if he dragged his feet before getting in, that’s a long shower. And to still be in there? Nick doesn’t strike him as the type to spend a long time in the shower.

His knuckles wrap on the door before he even registers that he’s moved. “Nick? Are you ok in there?” He hears movement, and then a bang, and suddenly he remembers what the shower looks like.

A box. With clear glass walls. And the tiling is even brown. Lighter than dirt, sure, but Greg is pretty sure Nick’s trauma brain doesn’t care.

“Nick, I’m coming in.” He’s ready to break down the door, but he’s surprised to find it isn’t locked.

Under any other circumstance, Greg would probably have a lot of thoughts running though his head at seeing a naked Nick Stokes with water running over him. But all of that doesn’t even cross his mind at seeing Nick, curled up on the floor of his shower, shaking. He has one fist pressed up against the glass and the other is bleeding, squeezed tight against his chest and rubbing at one of his healing welts.

Greg doesn’t think. He just does. He covers the distance from the door to the shower in no time, throwing open the door and not caring about his clothes getting soaked by the shower spray as he steps in and tries to pull Nick up and out. “Come on, you’re hurt.”

Nick is whimpering, muttering something over and over but his voice is so strained, so high and shaken, Greg can’t really make it out. And Nick seems not to be moving and much as he likes to brag, he’s no match for Nick’s dead weight. He sighs, trying to come up with some other way to get Nick to realise where he is, looking around for some hope for inspiration. Out of frustration, he reaches up and turns off the spray of water. The sudden silence is deafening. Except it isn’t silent, Nick is still muttering. But now Greg can actually hear the words he’s saying.

Ants.

Greg takes another look around the shower and sees the spatter of Nick’s blood and how someone could see little red ants instead of drops of blood. He takes a deep breath and kneels back down, putting his arms around Nick. “Come on, Nicky, you’re safe.” It doesn’t seem to have any more effect than it did before. Still, Greg doesn’t really have much more than his rambling going for him, so he keeps talking.

He talks about anything and everything. He tells stories of his Papa Olaf when he was growing up, talks about his mom and how she was a little over protective of him, he even talks about his dad, someone he doesn’t really talk about much to anyone. He talks and talks about whatever comes to mind and slowly, Nick stops shaking and stops muttering.

Some time later, Nick makes a humming sound. Greg stops talking right in the middle of a word. “Nick?”

“This isn’t how I imagined getting you into my shower.”

The implications of that sentence coming out of Nick’s mouth causes Greg’s mind to go utterly blank. It takes him a few tries before he manages to get a word out, “Are you… are you _flirting_ with me?”

An empty bark of laughter echoes in the room, “Have been for six years now, nice of you to notice.”

And Greg won’t let himself analyse that sentence because it’s way too much to chew on right now. “Yeah, but… But you flirt with everyone. I was more questioning your timing.”

“Never been too good with that.” Nick heaves a massive sigh then looks at Greg, “Do you mind? I’d like to keep as much dignity as I can right now…”

Greg jumps up, moving away toward the door, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he’s soaking wet and Nick is very naked. “Right, yeah, sorry.” He retreats back to the door, beginning to close it. Before the latch clicks, he pulls it back again, glancing in then averting his eyes. “Ah, are you sure you’re alright.”

“Yeah, you can play doctor when I’ve got some clothes on.”

Greg’s eyes dart back to Nick involuntarily as heat rises on his skin. A line about the way that ‘playing doctor’ is usually done better _without_ clothes pops into his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming from his neck from the wet clothes. He doesn’t say anything, just escapes, closing the door behind him.

While he waits for Nick to get dressed, the reality of Greg’s… dampness sets in. He moves to his duffel, picking out a new set of clothes. He hears doors open and close and assumes Nick’s moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, so Greg takes the opportunity to change in the bathroom. It feels strange, being back in the bathroom moments after finding Nick trapped in a panic attack. There’s still blood drops on the walls. The tile is still wet.

Greg tries to put it out of his mind while he changes, but he can’t. And when he’s managed to get on a dry pair of jeans and peels off his wet shirt, he stalks back over to the shower and turns it on. This time, he’s careful not to get himself wet while he directs the spray toward the walls, washing away the evidence. Not really, as he and Nick are both far too intimately familiar, but at least it doesn’t look like little red ants anymore.

Satisfied the walls are as clean as water will allow, Greg turns the water off once more and finally pulls on his shirt before leaving the room. Nick is sitting on the couch, looking far too relaxed for someone that was just talked down from a panic attack. He’s got a beer and Greg can see that there’s another open on the coffee table. Presumably for him.

“That for me?” he asks, dropping himself down on the other side of the couch.

“Yeah, figured we could both use it.”

And isn’t that the truth? Greg glances at the wall clock as he picks up the beer. Somehow, the whole damn day seems to have passed them by. But, then again, they are used to the night shift. The day has hardly begun.

“How’s your hand?”

Nick holds it out in front of himself. It’s not bleeding anymore, but there’s an angry red gash across his palm. “It’ll be fine.”

And that’s probably true, but something still bugs him. “How’d you manage that, anyway?”

“Ah, there’s a sharp spot on the metal frame of the door. Must’ve snagged it getting in.” He sighs, staring at his hand, “Didn’t notice until I saw the blood. And then I just…”

“I know.”

They drink in silence after that. Greg wants Nick to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to push him. It’s not like he actually has any right to expect Nick to talk to him anyway, he just hopes he will. Hopes Nick realises he doesn’t have to shoulder all of this alone.

“I don’t flirt with everyone.”

“What?” Because that came right out of left field.

“Ok, I kind of do, but… not really.”

Apparently this is the conversation Nick wants to have instead, so, sure, Greg will bite. “Considering that I’m pretty sure you don’t want to sleep with all of the night shift, I kinda figured that one out.” Nick mumbles something in response, but Greg only hears the words ‘no’ and ‘one.’ “Gotta say that again, Nicky, didn’t catch it.”

He looks angry, or close to it. Frustrated, maybe. He takes a deep breath before turning toward Greg, “I said, no, just one.”

And now Greg’s heart is pounding, because Nick is admitting something here. He just admitted to wanting to sleep with someone on night shift, if he’s reading this right. He does a quick roll call in his mind. Catherine? No, probably not. Plus, her and Warrick flirt more than Nick flirts with her. Sara? Greg is pretty sure she’s unavailable in more ways than one. Then there’s… Mandy. And sure, they flirt but Greg’s never gotten anything more than friendly banter from them. And that’s all the girls, and while Greg never really imagined Nick to be the type to bat for both teams, he’s been wrong before. In that case, he could definitely see him having the hots for Warrick, he’s a good looking guy, for sure. And Warrick definitely had some emotional moments while they were looking for Nick.

Wait, is Nick coming out to him? Is that what this is?

“Are you trying to tell me something?” he asks cautiously. He grew up in California and has never been too ‘straight and narrow’ himself, so he’s experienced a few coming outs. But why _him_?

Nick’s smile is sad. Resigned. “For a while now, but you never seem to take the hint.”

Trying to-? The pieces start to add up. Like a long day of looking at seemingly random evidence until finally one piece seems to make it all fit together, just like that. And suddenly, the whole picture falls into place. And with the way Nick is telegraphing, it doesn’t take a CSI to figure out what he’s getting at.

Greg’s jaw drops and he points at himself in question. Nick smirks like he’s trying to hold it back and failing, but nods all the same. And now his brain is tossing evidence at him a mile a minute, and he’s still trying to figure out his _own_ damn feelings and here Nick is, opening himself up like this.

Greg can’t breathe.

Like he actually can’t breathe, he can’t will himself to draw a breath and he’s pretty sure his face is going a little blue because Nick is looking at his and there’s a touch of fear maring his beautiful features.

Greg holds a finger up, a sign for Nick to hold on, wait, give him a moment. He gets up off the couch, looks around for… something, _anything_. When he doesn’t find anything that can possibly help him, and Nick’s worried stare is getting to be too much, he flings open the front door and runs to his car. In a panic, he fumbles in his pocket to hit the unlock button, getting in the passenger side because he just needs to be somewhere away for a minute. When the door closes, he lets go.

And screams.

He hopes the neighbours don’t hear his yelling. He doesn’t want the cops to get called on Nick because he can’t handle his own damn emotions. And wouldn’t that be an awkward conversation, especially since they know most of Las Vegas’ finest.

After he expends his pent up energy, he takes a couple much needed deep breaths, then slides out of his car. It’s easier to find his keys to lock it back up now that his hands aren’t shaking quite so much, even though he still has a tremor running through his whole body. He calmly walks himself back to the door, opening it slowly and closing it behind him without looking toward where he’s sure Nick is still sitting, probably very confused and maybe a little terrified.

“Sorry, I just… Wasn’t expecting that,” he mutters lamely as he walks back in, finding Nick, not on the couch where he left him, but in the kitchen doing some meal prep.

With Nick’s back to him, he can’t read his expression, but the tone of his voice when he responds is more than enough. “Of all the people, I had at least thought you would understand, even if you didn’t have any interest.” There’s so much hurt and venom in the words, Greg immediately feels guilty. Even though that had nothing to do with his outburst, he still feels _bad_.

“Nick-”

“What is it, Greg?” Nick spins around, brandishing the knife he had been using. He looks down at it right after Greg does and practically throws it on the counter before turning his ire back to Greg once more. “Do I disgust you? Well, if that’s the case, then just leave. I don’t need you here if it makes you _uncomfortable_.” The contempt with which he spits out the word makes Greg feel like a child, like he’s done something terribly wrong. And maybe he has.

Greg takes a step toward Nick, but doesn’t clear the distance. “That’s not-” The words catch in his throat. He wants to be angry that Nick would ever think such horrific things about him, but it only takes half a second to see this all from his point of view, to see how Greg could have definitely handled that a little better. “Nick, that’s not it at all.”

While he searches for the words to explain himself, Nick breaks the silence, “Then what is it?”

“Well, for one, I didn’t really want to scream in your face. That’s what I went out there to do, by the way. Scream. Because I couldn’t hold in everything I was feeling.” And that doesn’t really seem to help much. _Great work, Greg, keep digging that hole._ He sighs and tries again. “I was- here, come here.”

“What.” Nick’s voice is deadpan and dangerously even.

Still, Greg pushes. He holds out a hand, motioning, “Come here, let’s try this again.”

There’s a few seconds of intense tension in the air while Nick just stands there, eyebrows tight and whole body poised for a fight. Slowly, though, he moves. He doesn’t take Greg’s hand, but he does follow him back to the couch.

Greg sits, “Sit down, say it again. No beating around the bush this time, either.”

Nick looks incredibly skeptical. Greg can’t really blame him, he’s been through a lot and getting that kind of reaction after spilling your guts isn’t much of a confidence booster. Still, he does eventually open his mouth. “I have feelings for you, Greg. Have for a while.”

Greg smiles. “Ok. Ok. I’m sorry I ran out on you. But I only, let’s see… less than twenty-four hours ago realised that I have feelings for _you_. And about twenty-four hours before _that_ I wasn’t even sure I would ever see you alive again. So imagine my disbelief when you just drop that bomb and I’m still sorting through my own damn brain.” He sighs and scoots a little closer to Nick. He reaches out to touch him, but thinks better of it, he’s not sure yet if he’s completely fucked things up. “I definitely don’t think you’re disgusting or anything like that. I was into guys before I was into girls.”

And maybe that was more information that he really needed to share, but he also needs Nick to understand that he wasn’t trying to get away, exactly. He just had to let his brain out so he could process things.

“You’re not mad?”

He laughs, “Mad? No, Nick. That was the best damn news I’ve gotten since we found you alive.” His smile fades quickly though and he gives Nick a serious look, “But I will leave, if that’s what you want. I’m not here to get in your personal space or anything.”

“Have I really not made it obvious enough yet?” Nick says, frustration and joy in equal measures, “I don’t _want_ you to leave. I want _you_.”

“Don’t they all. I’m a lot of man to want, Nicky boy, are you sure you can handle me?”

Nick laughs, true and genuine. “Not even a little, but I sure do want to try.”

Greg offers him a warm smile. Nick may have issues, he may not be as healed as he wants everyone to believe, he may need help getting there. But right now, everything seems like it’s going to be pretty alright.

“Greg?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, but he nods. Nick leans in toward him slowly but Greg still can’t prepare himself for the way Nick’s lips feel against his. He’s soft and hard at the same time, somehow. Gentle, but insistent. And Greg feels like he’s eighteen and having his first kiss all over again except this time it’s way better even though it’s just a chaste lips on lips kiss.

When they part, Greg opens his eyes, not even sure when he closed them. Nick is looking right back at him, a soft expression plastered onto his face. It makes Greg feel warm. Whole.

Nick leans in again for another kiss, only this time, just after their lips make contact, Greg groans. Nick pulls back and looks at him in confusion. “What?”

One word, because he knows Nick will understand everything that one word means.

“Grissom.”

This time they both groan before falling into each other in a fit of giggles.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/playingchello).


End file.
